The Ten Years
by ClusiveC
Summary: ODIN has struck the United States. The Federation is on the conquest. Logan and David are caught up in the middle of it. These are the first ten years of the war.
1. Chapter I: Harsh Beginnings

_I do not own Call of Duty._

**The Ten Years**

**2016 August**

**The Early Days**

**California**

_Looking back on it now, I realize that the early days of the war represented much more than the base struggle for survival. At the time, it'd felt primal. Hell had found it's mark on earth, and the people were ill-prepared for it. That's what it'd seemed like at the time._

_But now, I can see that it was a test. It was a rite of passage. Our home had become the proving grounds. Those who could pick up the pieces and move on were the ones who lasted. The rest didn't._

_It's strange though. I can't really remember anything of what happened before the attack. It's as if my life never existed beyond the war. It nearly made me cry one night. Because it's hard for me to recall the days when I was a kid. My memories are just... fragmented. Of the early days of the occupation, I can't tell where one memory ends and one begins._

_But I do remember that Logan was always there with me._

* * *

Beneath a misty atmosphere of drizzling rain laid a battered web of various buildings and structures, all linked together by winding streets and tight alleys. Apartment buildings stretched from one horizon to the next, and all of them were the same. Overhead, the sky was a depressing, sickly grey color, and the sun fought with it to pierce the veil to cast light on the weakened city below. Even the birds had decided to stay home this day.

Military vehicles roamed these occupied streets, policing the captured area with a vile swiftness. Armed soldiers walked the roads in pairs, clad in the dark-colored armor of the Federation, sporting powerful assault rifles. A helicopter scanned the city from above, like a hawk, eagerly awaiting it's prey to make a mistake. Atop some of the key buildings in this particular area were the flags of the Federation, proudly proclaiming their conquest of this city. This military power had complete dominion over this place. It was undeniable.

Of interesting note was the local library, located near the center of this urban sprawl, sitting tightly with the flags of it's masters flying on top of it. There was a crowd near the entrance to it. Over a hundred civilians, the people who'd been taken by this occupation, were standing in a tight mass that resembled the faintest makings of a straight line. They were being directed by armed guards. There was a small amount of order. The rest of it was chaos, and fear, and terror. These people were gathered in front of the library for a reason.

It was a supply distribution center. And there was only so much that the Federation was willing to give out.

Madness, indeed.

And Logan, along with David, was caught up in the middle of it. Logan heard the shouts, and the pleading, and the shuffling of the crowd. He felt the heat, and the fear, and the shoving as well. It was all around him. Like a blanket of disorder, shrouding his every breathe. Every other week was this same process, and he still hadn't gotten used to it. The gathering of the masses struck a unique chord within Logan. It was a mixture of emotions, all bottled up into one entity, and it consumed him. He was being swamped in this sea of people.

David led the way through the crowd. They had to gain ground, slipping and brushing and shoving their way past the others. They had to get one of the supply bags. It was imperative. So Logan kept up with his brother as they made their way forward.

The 'Distribution Center' itself was actually a handful of Federation military troop transports, all of which were loaded down with a limited supply of bags that contained necessities. They showed up in this part of the city about once every 2 weeks. Most of the time, it took longer. This was how the Federation was handling the occupation for right now. The people who'd been caught up in the storm were rounded up into major cities and put under martial law. Since the United States military was pushed back, the civilians who were left over were under the control of the Federation. This was how it worked, and Logan and Hesh were a part of that cycle. So being out here to get one of the supply bags was critical.

The local library served as the location of this center. It was a massive building, dominating the scenery with all purpose. It commanded the appreciation of eyes as it stood proudly in the middle of the city. What had once stood as a beacon of learning and hope for Americans was now a main military headquarters building for the Federation. It was their center of operations for not only the city, but the entire part of the state as well. The walkway entrance for it was large enough to hold several transport vehicles, and still have plenty of room left over.

Logan and David had made it to the front. Federation soldiers were throwing the bags to the people; one group at a time, and one bag for a group. They were picking the people at random to come forth and get a bag. Logan watched as the process repeated itself over and over. He suppressed the anger within him, keeping himself as calm as possible. Being calm allowed for clear thinking, and he needed to think clearly.

"You!" A Federation soldier said harshly, pointing a gloved finger at David. "You're next. Who is with you?"

"It's just me and my brother." David told him.

"Both of you, go ahead." The soldier told them. "You know the consequences if you are caught lying to us."

So they both stepped forward to the nearest transport vehicle. There were two Federation soldiers standing on the back of it. One of them sported a high-powered SMG, loosely pointing it in the general direction of Logan and David. The look on his face was impassive; careless. Prepared to kill a thief at a moment's notice. The other soldier had his weapon slung behind his back, reaching for one of the bags. He hefted it and then tossed it on the ground. It landed in a heap, right in front of David.

That was all they were getting.

"Take it and leave. Now." The first Federation soldier told them. The one who'd pointed his gloved finger at David.

David picked up the bag with both hands and signaled for Logan to come. Instead of going back the way they'd come, they were directed to leave down the side entrance of the library. They moved fast, eager to get back to their 'home'. Behind them, the Federation soldier was picking out another person from the crowd. It was a scene that Logan was glad to leave behind. So he walked alongside David as they made their way down a short flight of stairs leading to the street.

The road was noticeably less chaotic than the front side of the library. Mostly everyone they could see was either heading away from the library, or going to it. No one stopped to speak to anyone. Nobody sat around loitering. Everyone was on a mission to get from point A to point B. It was as simple as that.

For Logan and David, their point B was Housing Center 1B. It was the place that they lived their life now. The Federation had these housing centers arranged in specific orders, and everyone lived in an apartment. The west side of town was where the B-designated housing centers were located. Each center was secured with a large gate, surrounding it completely, with only one entrance. If a person was out past the curfew, then they would be stuck outside the gate for the night. It was harsh, but the Federation gave no damn.

They were headed to HC 1B.

"I swear man. It gets worse and worse every time." David said.

"I know. I can't stand it." Logan replied, shaking his head.

"We can't put up with this. We gotta do something."

"Like what? What can we do?"

"We gotta find Elias. I know a way to do that."

Logan looked at David. "You know where dad is?" he asked.

"I don't know where, but I know how to find him." David told him. Then he lowered his voice. "The library. This is a major city, and they're still targeting the nearby resistance cells. Elias _has _to be with one of them. And I know for a fact that the library has some kind of tactical map or something in there that we could get our hands on. _Some _piece of information."

Logan thought for a moment, and then thought for another moment. He blinked twice. "How do you think we're gonna manage to do that? Get one of those maps? How do you even know that there's one in there?"

"It's worth a shot, to me. Somebody needs to do something, and that needs to be us. Remember what Elias told us about -".

David was cut off. Someone ran into him, hard, and knocked the supply bag from his hands.

"David!" Logan yelled.

The attacker got up quick and snatched the bag from the ground, running away. Logan rushed over to David and stooped next to him.

"I'm fine. I'm good." David said, rolling onto his back, a grimace spreading across his face.

Logan nodded and then looked up. Their attacker was running away with their bag. He couldn't let it get away. They depended on those bags too much.

So Logan broke off in a full-blown sprint, chasing the thief. He ran, and ran. People watched from afar as he pursued the attacker. Logan focused on building up as much momentum as he could. He wasn't the fastest out there, but he wasn't slow. Especially when it came down to something like this. He had to go faster. He wasn't gaining any ground. And he didn't know how long he could keep this up.

The attacker looked over his shoulder at Logan for a brief moment, and then cut to the right, down an alleyway. Logan followed suit, leaning into the turn, keeping his speed up. There was a dumpster in the middle of the alley, knocked over by something from before, lying on its front. Instead of circling around it like the thief did, Logan slid across it. He had to keep his momentum up, or he would never catch the guy.

They continued down the alley, still running at full speed. Stray pieces of paper were blown out of the way in the process. Up ahead was a fence, separating one half of the alley from the other. The attacker tossed the bag over it and proceeded to climb the fence. He climbed it slow.

Logan sprinted full-speed to the fence and used his momentum to carry him up the fence as fast as he could. It took him only 2 steps. He clambered onto the top of it, and then leaped down onto the attacker, landing on him with all his weight.

They hit the ground hard. Logan felt it in his bones. Instead of complaining about the pain, he slipped his arm beneath the neck of the attacker and began choking him. They tussled and rolled on the ground, struggling and fighting. The thief tucked his legs in and lifted himself up, while Logan still had him in the headlock. An elbow caught Logan in the side of the head, blurring his vision and sending a sharp pain through his skull. And he loosed his grip. The attacker took advantage of this, turning and swinging a left-handed blow.

It connected and snapped Logan's head to the side. Without wasting time, the attacker threw a right handed punch. This time, Logan threw his arm up and the blow glanced off of his forearm. And then Logan threw a straight jab, slamming his fist directly into his opponent's face. Instead of throwing another blow, he whipped his head forward and smashed his forehead into the attacker's nose, breaking it.

While the thief was stunned, holding his face in pain, Logan grabbed him by the shirt and shoved him into the wall of the alley, head first. The attacker fell to the ground instantly, in a bloody heap, and Logan stumbled back.

Logan rested his hands on his knees, breathing heavily, ignoring the searing pain in his head. He couldn't think straight. He couldn't even stand. So he backed into the wall and slumped to the ground. It was all he could do to keep himself from groaning in pain. There was blood on his shirt, but he was too tired, too worn to even care if it was his. He rested his head back against the wall. Everything in his body felt as if it were on fire.

The attacker lie motionless on the ground. It was over.

"Shit." Logan muttered.


	2. Chapter II

**The Ten Years - Chapter II**

**2016 August**

**Act I - The Early Days**

**California**

_They say that time waits for no man._

_It's impassive. It doesn't care about what's right or wrong. Time doesn't pick sides, nor does it discriminate. It doesn't have an opinion. It doesn't hold grudges. It doesn't even have emotion. It just does it's job, which is moving on._

_When we needed it most, during the early days, time wasn't on our side. The United States suffered blow after brutal blow. We weren't prepared for this type of warfare. Our defenses crumbled, and our morale followed suit. The Federation on one side. The resistant US Forces on the other side. And somewhere in between was the leftover civilian population. The man who'd lived a steady life, making a decent living for his kids, was now wondering when he would be liberated. The woman who'd done all she could so that her child could attend college now had to scavenge for books for her son. These every day people hated the Federation, but they could do nothing about it. It ate them up._

_What the US Forces needed was heroes. People who were willing and able to stand up for something greater than themselves. Martyrs, who wore their allegiance like a badge of honor. The kind of person that did the necessary planning and jump-starting to get the United States back on the right track._

_We had a lot of those people. I met a lot of them over the years. They have my gratitude, and my respect._

* * *

Leonid Zhaetsev understood the risks and returns involved when it came to field reconnaissance. As a young boy growing up in the Urals, Leonid had spent many hours of many days on the prowl. His grandfather had taught him the ways of the hunt. How to assess the field. How to judge distances and locations. Spotting a vulnerable prey. Setting the perfect trap. Observation. Assessment. Tactical insertion.

What separated Leonid from the traditional soldier was not his ability to gather intelligence. It was his drive. His intuition. He lived his life by a code - which was to succeed. Period. It'd kept him alive so far. He planned on staying alive for the time being.

So he walked down Main Street on the outer edges of the city. He kept his pace normal, and his hands down by his sides. He kept an easy, relaxed look on his face, and kept himself from glancing around unnecessarily. Anyone looking at him would've looked away without a second thought. He was just a man, trying to get somewhere.

Leonid walked pass building after building, going block after block, soaking in every single detail. He made mental notes of positions, distances from one object to the other. He estimated the heights of specific buildings. He counted how many Federation guards he passed by. He made mental notes of all of their equipment. The penmaster in his mind was scribbling notes down at hyper-speed. At the same time, the artist in his mind was busy painting a map of everything he'd come across so far, drawing it as close to scale as possible. And the mathematician in his mind, the one who ran the numbers, was busy calculating chances and probabilities. And Leonid kept himself as natural as any person.

Across the street from his current position was an empty park, lying alone in the midst of so many structures. Trees stood proud within the large space, giving their shadow to the ground beneath. It was filled with winding walkways and short bridges and benches. Almost like a miniature nature reserve. So Leonid stood and watched it. He appreciated the work. Somewhere along the line of history, someone had to get out there and set that up. And it'd costed someone else a lot of money. It was a shame that it was no longer used.

Perhaps it will be of use again in the future.

But it wasn't now, so Leonid decided to cross the street. He looked both ways first, even though it wasn't necessary. A habit born of a life filled with walking through cities. As he headed into the park, he dropped something in the middle of the street.

Leonid entered the park, not even bothering to look over his shoulder. It was like casting himself into a separate realm completely. Being this close, he realized just how massive the trees were. They were giants, standing guard for a natural world untouched by the events happening around it. The grass was green, and the air was perfect. For a brief moment, the artist in Leonid's mind had pulled out a snapshot of his home. But it was quickly tucked away back into it's appropriate filing cabinet.

So Leonid briefly reached up and tapped a piece of equipment in his ear. Without pausing in his stride, keeping his appearance as ordinary as possible, he spoke.

"I am finished." He said simply.

A few seconds later came the reply. "You are done? Already?" a female voice asked. "Impressive. Even for you." She said, not waiting for his reply.

"They have done a poor job of securing this part of the city."

"Ohkay. You know what step two is. Get it done."

"Hm." Leonid replied.

He reached back up and snapped off the earpiece.

* * *

"I was thinking last night." David told Logan, sitting up against the wall in their miniature housing unit. The place was as basic as any 'home' could get. There were no decorative additions at all. There was only one restroom. The floor was hard, creaking wood. Everything was down-scaled to be as cheap as possible.

"Still going on about that sudden revelation you had last week?" Logan asked, fitting on a cape for the General in his miniature toy army. Logan had painted and built every single individual soldier in all four of the toy armies he had. It'd been his hobby for a long time, and he spent a lot of time working on it. He had two of these armies spread out before him on the floor, facing each other, with one on his right, and the other on his left.

"No, not that." David shook his head softly, and then closed his eyes. "I can't remember mom's voice. I can't picture her face anymore."

Logan placed the General on the floor, in between both of the toy armies. "Think of something that stands out in your mind."

"I already did, but it ain't helping. I just remember her being nice, and sad, and regretful."

In front of him, Logan surrounded the General with several Honor Guard soldiers. "She wasn't _that _nice."

"You're right. To _me, _she wasn't nice. But she had you spoiled like hell. I couldn't do anything without you running off and telling her about it." David said with a smile on his face.

Logan laughed. "I wasn't 'telling'. I was reporting. There's a difference."

"If you say so." David told Logan. "But Megan Campbell? Now _she _was nice."

Logan took the time to put a unit of heavy infantry on the right flank of the General's army. Without having a secure flank, the General would fall in the battle. Without having a General, the army would be in disarray. Without having order and tact, the entire force would be crushed. Without having a force, the battle would be lost completely.

And then he said, "You mean the girl that doesn't know you exist?"

David sighed. "She was all over me, man."

They shared a laugh, reminiscing of days past. But then, there was a frantic knock at the door. _Band-bang-bang. Bang-bang-bang. _It was an urgent knock. One that was demanding for an answer. Both Logan and David shot up to their feet. It sounded as if there was some commotion going on outside. David walked down the short hallway to the door, and Logan followed suit, carefully stepping around his miniature battlefield.

Without asking who it was, David pulled open the door to see several Federation soldiers standing there.

"Step aside." One of them said. He was standing directly in front of David, face to face. Logan assumed he was the leader of the small group, because he'd spoken up first.

They were all fully-equipped, sporting various assault rifles, looking deadly and efficient. They were calm. Logan couldn't read the expressions on their faces. These guys were professional soldiers.

"The hell is this about?" David asked, looking at the soldier in front of him in the eye.

"We're looking for someone," he told David. They were engaged in a silent battle of wills. Staring each other down. It raged beneath the surface, like a mental war erupting between the both of them.

"What makes you think they're in here?"

"It doesn't matter what I think. The only thing that matters is what's going to happen."

"Nothing's going to happen. Not if I have something to say about it."

Logan could feel his adrenaline begin to pick up. He flexed his hands and loosened his stance. From the look of things, this wasn't going to end well. Neither David nor the Federation trooper was willing to back down.

"I don't give a damn what you have to say." The soldier told David.

"I don't give a damn what you're here for. Now get the hell out of my face."

The soldier squinted his eyes. For the longest moment ever, they stood eye to eye. It was like a wild-west showdown. A versus battle.

The Federation soldier took a step forward and raised his weapon slightly, brushing past David. "Step aside, kid. Before you get hurt." The rest of the soldiers did the same, and they forced themselves into the room, loosely aiming their weapons at both Logan and David.

Logan stepped aside, watching them as they barged in without permission. He saw the burning anger on David's face, and hoped that David wouldn't do something to get them both killed. Logan felt that same rage as well, but he knew that it wouldn't do any good to spark up a fight. The soldiers were armed, and they weren't.

The leader of them, the one that had briefly dueled David at the front door, took a slow look around the small apartment. "Spread out and search everywhere. Don't miss _anything._" He told them. "And if either one of those two try anything, don't hesitate to put a bullet in him."

And with that, they began scouring the cramped place. They threw things around, checking and searching with no remorse. They ransacked the entire place. They stepped over the two armies that Logan had place out on the floor. It was a quick process, altogether, but it felt like it lasted for hours.

And Logan stood beside his brother, David, and the both of them watched. They couldn't do anything _but _watch.

The soldier in charge was sifting around for evidence when he found a picture lying on top of the small counter in the kitchen. He studied the picture for a while.

"Who is this?" He held the picture up so that David and Logan could see it.

On the picture was a young lady, barely over 20 years of age. She had short, dark black hair that flowed about her head in waves. It was one of those pictures that you take of someone when they don't know about it. The girl on it was staring off into a beautiful sunset, sitting down on a swing. Her dark black eyes were inquisitive, as if they were lost in thought.

Both Logan and David tensed up slightly.

"Why don't you get out of here already?" David demanded, a frown on his face.

The soldier turned around. "You're right." He said. Then he looked to the rest of his squad. "Take them."

It took a brief moment for the realization to hit Logan. Everything seemed to close in around him, as if it were about to crush him. He felt something in his bones. A feeling that he rarely ever experienced. It consumed him.

"No!" David shouted, stepping forward, his hands balled into tight fists.

The soldiers all raised their weapons at them. The safeties were thumbed off. There was nothing that they could do.

One of the troopers produced two sets of handcuffs.

* * *

The Federation soldier who was in charge of the search squad for Housing Center 1-B was Ricardo Morales.

All day long, Command had been flooding the local chatterweb about some Russian guy who "Posed a significant threat" to the operations in the area. They'd locked down the entire city, completely. The streets were bare, with the only people on it being Federation troops. A frantic, foolish hunt for the person had been persisting throughout the length of the day, and they had yet to find the guy. Ricardo was pissed off at it. He'd been searching for this suspected 'threat' all day long.

His CO was demanding results, however. So Ricardo _had _to bring in something for him. Anything, really. He hated that fact, but his CO was a hard-ass who'd spent his entire career shouting orders and kissing ass for promotions. In turn, the guy didn't tolerate failure too well.

So Ricardo had ordered his squad to seize the two young guys that they'd come across. He knew for a fact that they had no idea where the Russian was, but he needed to bring someone in before the day was over. It was unfortunate for those two. But the older one had pissed him off anyway. The damn kid hadn't known when to shut up.

His COM piece came to life.

"Morales, have you found anything?" The Dispatcher asked.

Ricardo looked around the apartment briefly.

"I have two that I am bringing in. We're finished with our scan of 1-B." Ricardo reported.

"Very good. Bring it in for the night. We'll see what tomorrow brings."

And with that, the Dispatcher was gone. Ricardo turned off the earpiece built into his helmet, and then looked back down at the picture in his hand.

The girl in it look faintly familiar. As if he'd seen her in passing at some point in his life. Or if she'd been in some weird dream that he'd had a long time ago. He couldn't piece it together. It was bugging him. But he couldn't put his finger on why it bugged him so much.

A Federation soldier appeared in the doorway, and Ricardo quickly slid the picture into a pouch on his belt. "Sir, we're all set for exfil."

"Ohkay. I'm on my way down."

The young soldier nodded quickly and then briskly walked away.

Ricardo pulled his helmet off, wrapping his head in the cool air of the room, running his gloved hand through his short hair. He walked to the door, carrying his helmet in his hands, with his rifle slung over his shoulder. He paused for a moment. And then he blinked two times. And after that, he stepped out of the room, shut the door, and headed downstairs to the waiting transport.

As he headed down the long hall, he strangely felt as if he was trespassing on owned territory. The Federation was in control of this city, but it didn't sit well with him to be invading these people's distributed 'homes'. It wasn't that he felt regret about doing it. But he was a soldier, and he fought wars. He should be out on the frontlines, fighting against the American soldiers. Not sitting on his ass everyday, overseeing a bunch of civilians who had nothing to do with it. Being a soldier was his life. It was what he knew - what he understood. It wasn't that he enjoyed it. It was more of a sense of belonging. Like he _belonged _in the battle. When he wasn'tin the mix of a war, his life felt like it was out of place.

Ricardo had tried the normal life out when he was a kid. But growing up in a school filled with bullies had built him into something that he wasn't proud of.

His mom had been single and struggling. To this day, Ricardo still remembered each individual expression she'd get on her face whenever she received bad news about something. His thoughts traveled back to when he spent nights watching TV with her, sometimes feeling good, and sometimes not feeling good.

But now, he was a soldier. He was living the life he'd been set into. Playing the cards that he'd been dealt. So as they arrived at the Troop Area, Ricardo slid his helmet back on, and hopped out the back of the armored truck. Guard troops were stationed all around the area, on high alert because of the Russian. There weren't that many troops out though, because it was night time, and because they had to get rest, like any other human being. But the CO didn't rest. He never rested.

His job was to _do _his job. He would rest when he got to Hell.

So Ricardo headed to the Lieutenant's Quarters, while the rest of his squad headed to the Barracks building. The LQ was actually a small, cleaned out gas station that the Federation was using until things settled down more. It was rag-tag at best, but it would serve it's purposes. Ricardo headed to the back area of it, where the CO sat behind his desk, a pen scribbling away at a page filled with words.

The CO looked up as Ricardo walked in. "I have some news, Sergeant. Some news that you might appreciate." Lt. Rodriguez told him. "We've gotten word of a small unit of American troops nearby. They're platoon-sized, and lightly armed. We're thinking that this maybe a reconnaissance patrol. If our estimates are correct, then these troops are all veterans of the opening skirmishes in Los Angeles and San Diego. They're skilled, either way." Rodriguez said.

"Sounds a little strange, sir. You sure that it's just a platoon-sized force?"

"Your job is not to question, Ricardo. We are at war. We do what we must." The Lieutenant told him. "You will assemble a strike team, and then move out at 0930 tomorrow morning." The CO said, looking Ricardo directly in the eyes. "You will find this enemy, and you will destroy them."

"I apologize if I spoke out of turn, sir. But it seems strange to me that they would send a patrol near here. They know we have this area under control. What do they need to recon? There's no need for them to risk lives for a patrol that won't give them any new information. It just sounds like bait, Lieutenant." Ricardo said.

"Is that all, Sergeant?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. You will eliminate this threat. End of story. Are we clear?"

"It will be done, sir."


	3. Chapter III

**The Ten Years - Chapter III**

**2016 August**

**Act I - The Early Days**

**California**

_How do you determine if a cause is just? Can you measure it? Can you grade it? Where does the side of right differ from the side of wrong?_

_The troopers of the Federation were more than just basic soldiers. They believed in their cause. It fueled their war-machine. They lived and breathed this war, because they felt that it was what they'd been born to do. Rarely did they do a poor job at anything. They were steadfast._

_But we were always stronger. They'd always been doomed from the start. We had more to fight for than they did. Our very way of life was being violated. Our blood had been spilled, on _our _land. It was a much rougher situation for us. All that it'd taken was a spark. Hope was what we'd needed._

_I remember it still. I'll always remember it._

* * *

Lately, the city has been in somewhat of a buzz. The days seemed to go by faster, and there seemed to be more Federation troops and vehicles filling it. Word got out that a battle had ensued some where near the outskirts of the city. A skirmish between the Federation and some American soldiers. Nobody was sure what'd exactly happened, but rumor had it that the Federation had suffered a loss. It had the local civilian population excited. They'd been reminded that the war was still going on - that it wasn't lost. That the Federation was still vulnerable.

It's just street talk, mostly, but it still delivered the hope.

In other news, for over a week now, the Federation has been hunting Leonid Zhaetsev mercilessly. It all started when the body of a young Federation soldier had been found inside of a dumpster one afternoon. After investigating the crime scene, the Federation had found a destroyed ear microphone lying on the ground behind the dumpster. Their Field Technicians and Communications Engineers had spent an entire day messing with the piece of equipment. Eventually, their fruitless efforts were rewarded. They'd managed to produce a very short, garbled recording of a man's voice, speaking quietly and with a Russian accent. And from then on, the hunt had been set to full-pursuit.

Leonid was aware of all of this. It was all a part of the plan. He'd purposely sparked off a confrontation with the lone Federation soldier. Then, without warning, he'd struck. A quick, lightning-fast strike to the throat was enough to crush the windpipe. And for good measure, a follow-up, full strength headbutt had been enough to shatter the nose and daze the Federation soldier, cause him to fall, and cover his entire face with blood. Afterwards, Leonid had quickly stripped the soldier of some key equipment, and then he gave the soldier a quick stomp to the head, and finally tossed him into the dumpster. Bleeding and broken and raspy breathing and all. Like a heap of dead weight, broken and unwanted. And then Leonid had put a lock on the dumpster - trapping the bleeding soldier within.

After all of that had happened, Leonid had shook his earpiece out of his ear. It'd hit the ground with a small, metallic _thumpp. _He'd stomped it one good time, to give it enough of a break to be officially broken beyond repair, but not enough of a break to be shattered to pieces. He'd kicked it behind the dumpster, out of sight, but not too out of sight, so that it could be found if someone was looking for something interesting, which was what the Federation MPs would've been investigating for.

Satisfied at all of that, Leonid had pulled off his backpack, knelt on the ground, and opened it. Inside of it were some key things that Leonid needed. He'd picked up the Federation helmet that he'd taken off of the soldier and stored it in his bag. He'd put a few other things in there, too, but not too many. Leonid had read reports of earlier engagements that the Federation had been in before the war on the US, and he'd learned a lot about the way they worked. An example, for instance, was the built in communications software that was installed in every Federation helmet, known as THCS, or Tactical Helmet Communications System. He'd intended to use the helmet to keep him updated on the movements of the Federation.

Taking one last look at the scene, and finding it to his satisfactory, Leonid had taken off. He'd walked at a basic pace. Not too fast, not too slow. He'd kept his appearance as neutral as he could. Other than his higher than average build, Leonid looked like anyone else, for the most part.

He'd become invisible, just that quick. And no Federation soldier has come in direct contact with him since.

* * *

The reason why was because Leonid Zhaetsev was extremely meticulous and careful. Rarely, if ever, did he make a mistake. And he was one step ahead because of the helmet that he'd taken from the dead Federation soldier.

So he'd 'broken' into an unused apartment in Housing Unit 1-B. It was perfect for Leonid, because the two individuals who'd lived there before had been taken captive by the Federation. No one would come snooping around here - Why would anyone need to get inside of an apartment that was supposed to be locked down completely?

_Perfect, _Leonid thought. And then he thought about some more stuff. And then he thought about some other things. And then the mathematician in his head ran a quick calculation. At the same time, Leonid wrote down some notes onto a small sketchbook. To the unknowing observer, the notes looked like a bunch of random words that made no sense. But to Leonid, it made perfect sense.

The Federation was about to move Elias' boys to the regional prison.

Leonid ripped out the sheet of paper with the notes on it, balled it up, and shot it into a trash can.

Then, Leonid pulled the second earpiece that he had - a perfect copy of the one that he'd broken earlier - out of his backpack. He stuck it into his ear and then tapped a small button on it.

"Alena, are you there?" He asked.

It took a few seconds for the reply. Leonid's mathematician counted 7, to be exact. "Yes." She said.

"They're moving them."

"Moving who?"

"The boys. To the prison. Tomorrow night." He told her.

There was a 1 second interlude before she asked him, "How do you know this?"

Instead of answering her question right away, Leonid said, "You should get some sleep. It's good for the blood, I've heard."

"_What? _What are you talking about?" Alena asked him, completely caught off guard.

"You know. Sleep. The thing that normal humans do. You should try it some time. Really."

"Thanks for the advice, Leonid. I'll be sure to follow up on that. After all, you know everything."

Leonid smiled briefly. Which was a rare sight. "Trust me. On both the friendly advice, and the question you asked me, about how I know they're moving the two boys. Elias isn't going to like it one bit. Make sure he doesn't do anything to jeopardize our operation here."

Leonid heard her sigh for a moment. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I'm going to go to prison about it. Literally."

"I hope you know what you're doing, Leonid."

"Trust me." He told her.

And then Leonid snapped off the earpiece and slipped it into his back pocket. He stood up from the floor and stretched. It'd been a long day, filled with information gathering and evasion. The Federation didn't know what he looked like, but they knew what to look for. So most of his time was spent inside the apartment.

Other than the everyday work that he did outside the apartment, there wasn't much for him to do. The apartment was filled with miniature toy soldiers, and Leonid couldn't help but wonder which one of Elias' sons was responsible for it. They were everywhere. On counters, in the bathroom, on the floor, inside cabinets. There had to be hundreds of them. On top of that, there was little to eat in the fridge.

Because of the risk of getting caught, Leonid purposely avoided going to the supply area in front of the library. So most of the food he had was stuff that he'd stolen from other people's apartments while they were gone. The rest of it was the remaining food left that the two boys had. It wasn't much to live off of. But Leonid had been in much harsher situations before, so he wasn't new to it.

Either way, it was about to end now. He needed to get caught without them knowing that he was the Russian that they were looking for. So he gathered all of his belongings, which was hardly much at all, and shoved it into his small backpack. And then he walked out of the apartment.

* * *

**_Exactly 4 days later_**

The in-processing hadn't been easy. It'd been far from it.

First, there'd been the mad dash from the bus to the prison itself. At midnight, when everything was pitch black, the only light sources were the moon and the one bright light that'd been shining on them. Logan had been thinking how crazy the situation was - that he was a POW in his own country. The Federation gave no shit to this, however. It was all about lockup.

They'd searched them, and then had ordered them to remove their clothing. Logan had hated it. Everyone was too close. Everything had been too chaotic.

Then the Federation had shoved a handful of clothes to each one of them. A plain white long-sleeved shirt, with plain white pants. All during this, the Federation guards had been shouting at them, _screaming _at them. Logan had never dressed up that fast before, in his entire life. The shirt was a bit too big, and the pants were a bit too small. Luckily, his shoes had been a decent fit.

And then came the cell assignments. This was where Logan had lost track of David. All of them, 22 prisoners in total, had been shoved and hauled into a tight hallway, where everything was too dark. They'd been set into a rough line, and the guard at the front of it was assigning cells to them. When it'd came Logan's turn, he hadn't heard a word that the guard had said. Another Federation soldier, however, had grabbed him by the collar and yanked him, screaming, "Move!". And so Logan trudged along where he was ordered to, passing by other cells as he went. He could see the other prisoners, all of which looked older than him, and like they truly belonged here.

But right now, as Logan was laid out on his bunk, he couldn't recall a second of it. That was the only thing he could do - think and wait. His cell was extremely tight, with his bunk taking up nearly half of it. Luckily, he was the lone occupant of this one. He preferred to be alone. But in this setup, he had nothing to do but stare up at the cracked, decaying ceiling and let his mind wander. He hadn't seen David since the in-processing craze, or any of the other prisoners that'd been with them. So he sighed, and rolled over onto his side, staring at the wall on the other side of the cell.

At random, Logan briefly wondered if he would ever get all of his soldiers back - the ones that he'd spent so much time building and painting.

And then, he began to hear some commotion outside the cell. There was movement, and voices, and dancing shadows along the brick walls. There was the sound of cell bars being slid to the side. Logan realized that something interesting was going on. He stood up from the bed and stretched, and then walked over to the bars and gripped them, looking out into the hall.

The guards were moving people somewhere.

One of them came face to face with Logan. He was tall and big, and had a scar running along the side of his face, but Logan didn't back away. Instead, he looked the guard straight in the eye.

"Step back." The soldier told him.

Logan stepped away from the bars and asked, "What's going on?"

The guard opened the cell and motioned for Logan to step out of it. Because he had nothing better to do, Logan exited the cell and took a look down the hall. Guards were herding prisoners into some general direction. So Logan assumed that he was a part of that group, and he caught up to them. Noticeably, the Federation soldiers were less brutal than they'd been during the in-processing. There weren't any warning gunshots going off, nor was there any screaming.

Eventually, after going down hall after hall, their group of prisoners had increased in size dramatically. Logan spent the time trying to memorize the layout of the prison. He'd counted the turns, and the distances between each turn, and the degree of each turn, so he had a fairly crude map of where they'd been so far drawn out in his head. At the moment, he hadn't seen any chances for a possible escape, at all. The guards were all smart, and there were plenty of them. They didn't make any reckless moves and they stayed on point. Trying anything would've resulted in a bullet to the gut, or worse.

After trekking through the prison for 13 minutes, they arrived at a large pair of doors. They led to a gigantic open area outside. Logan had to shield his eyes after not seeing the sun in nearly 2 days. There were watchtowers set up around the outskirts of the place, each one with a pair of guards armed with rifles. And benches and tables were scattered about, occupied with other prisoners and such. And there were prisoners everywhere. Logan had no idea where to go, or what to do.

So he found an empty bench that was located in the shade, set against the wall, and sat there. He could see the entire space from where he sat, and it was shaded from the sun. He guessed it was as good a spot as it could get. And then he took a look at general population.

Everyone was more or less the same. It was just a big sea of dirty white uniforms, all bound together and stuff. At first, Logan thought it was odd how it was a mix of women and men. He thought that they didn't do that - that they were supposed to separate men and women. But then he remembered that it was the Federation that he was dealing with, and the slight frown on his face disappeared. The Federation didn't give a damn about rules like that. It was all about command and power when it came to them. There were pockets of people spread about, and then there were the smaller groups in between those larger ones that consisted of 2 - 4 people. And then there were the individuals situated somewhere between all of those groups.

Logan sat forward and rested his elbows on his kneecaps, rubbing his hands together.

There was a small little squad of about 4 other prisoners heading his way. Heading straight for him. They looked to be a bit older than Logan, and they didn't look too friendly, judging by the stupid looks on their faces. On top of that, there was a leader in the squad, as usual - who was the bald headed guy in front of the rest of them. Obviously, they were hostile.

Logan sighed, took a quick look around, and then stood up slowly. He raised his chin above the regular height level, as usual, and straightened his back, like he usually did. And then he took a step forward, which caused a brief stutter in the stride of the approaching squad.

Before they reached him, he spoke up, taking another step forward. "We really gonna do this?" He asked.

They ignored his question and stopped about 5 yards in front of him.

Logan repeated his question. "I mean, we're _really _gonna do this?"

As expected, the bald guy spoke for the group. "We don't have to do this if you move. So get to stepping."

"I don't know if I can do that. I kinda like this spot. It's all shady, and stuff."

"Don't try to be a smart guy, kid. Now get the hell out of here."

Logan was starting to really get pissed. Really pissed. All four of them looked like big dumb idiots. And that one guy's bald head was beginning to annoy Logan. Along with that stupid look on his face. But Logan kept his face impassive. Then he said,

"You've got a multiple choice test here. Option A, you leave me be. The earth starts back rotating. Everything goes smoothly." Then he said, "Option B, you _don't _leave me be. And then you don't leave from this spot at all, unless it's on a stretcher."

The bald headed guy stepped forward and got in Logan's face. "What you gonna do, boy?"

Logan shook his head. "You just failed the test, miserably. But I'm willing to let you retake it. I'll give you three seconds to back away from me and leave."

The guy just stood there, looking all phony and foolish. So Logan said, "Three."

And then, without counting any more, Logan delivered a full-powered, left leg kick to the guy's shin. Nobody expects an opening attack to be a kick to the leg if you're in a 'street' fight. It's all about punches to most people. Logan wasn't one of those people. That kick caused immediate, excruciating pain, especially since it was his left leg. Logan's follow-up attack was the punch that the bald-headed guy was originally expecting, which connected on the guy's temple. And just like that, baldy was down and out.

Logan was already reacting to the blow that was coming his way from one of the other prisoners. He ducked beneath the wild punch and then sent a blow to this guy's stomach, as hard as he could. Logan moved as fast as he could. He stood back up and elbowed the second guy's head in the back, while he was doubled over. It was a magnified blow, because gravity had been helping Logan that time. The guy fell face first and hit the concrete ground.

The other two prisoners, surprisingly, were moving to attack Logan. He'd expected them to back off after seeing what happened to their leader and the 2nd dude.

The one on his right threw a hook, and Logan had to block it with his forearm. The blow rattled his bones and his teeth. It would've been catastrophic if that punch had landed.

Logan responded by giving the guy a straight jab, snapping his head to the side and causing him to step away. At the same time, the prisoner on his left rushed to tackle him, and Logan barely turned in time. He was hit full force in the stomach, and it knocked the breath out of him. It also caused a great deal of pain to his midsection.

But Logan had slipped his arm around the guy's head before they hit the ground.

They landed hard, and it hurt badly, but not as bad as the prisoner who's head hit the ground first. Logan had the prisoner's head trapped within the crook of his arm, and he immediately wrapped his legs around the prisoner's legs. And then he started to squeeze as hard as he could. With all of his might.

And then there was a gunshot. It pierced Logan's awareness. It was loud and distinct. There was a lot of screaming going on, and Logan wanted to hurt this guy as bad as possible, but he wasn't stupid. He let go and then rolled away, standing to his feet. He saw a Federation guard standing a few feet away from him, with a pistol pointed up in the air.

"You! Come with me!" The soldier shouted at Logan, aiming his gun at him now.

_Man he got here quick, _Logan was thinking.

Logan rested his hands on his knees, breathing hard. He looked around and saw that a crowd had gathered around. He spat on the ground, falling to one knee. He hadn't realized just how much that fight had taken out of him.

"_Move!_" The Federation soldier yelled.


End file.
